


a great number of little bells

by faceslikebirds (bluedreaming), kaithartic (bluedreaming)



Series: all the stars were laughing [4]
Category: EXO (Band), f(x)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/faceslikebirds, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/kaithartic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I wish I could keep you safe forever,</em> she thinks, but she will. She will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a great number of little bells

**Author's Note:**

> It's not raining, for this story, so I listened to the xx's [chained](http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=-qiJ06IeFiI#The_xx_-_Chained_\(Official_Video\)) instead, though this story is considerably less melancholic.

 

_“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me…_   
_You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure…_   
_It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh.”_   
―[Antoine de Saint-Exupéry](),  The Little Prince

 

She strokes his soft head, curled up in her lap as she rocks back and forth in the rocking chair, humming under breath. There's an exhaustion lurking, shadows in the wings, but it's not yet, not right now.

Qiàn sits, her son wrapped up in her arms, wrapped in the afghan she made a while ago with still-steady fingers, a surrogate hug she knows he'll need later, even if he doesn't know right now. It's okay.

"You'll be okay," she murmurs into his soft hair, the silky strands slipping between her fingers and oh how she wants—but she can't. Things just haven't worked out that way.

 _I can still keep them safe,_ she thinks, firmly, fingers running over his small arms as Sehun stirs in his sleep, snuggling closer into her arms.

It's not the rainy season yet, the sky still clear and sunny, like a last good day, but Qiàn doesn't think about things like how much time she has left, worrying about sorting this and that and all the papers and letters and things that one accumulates over a lifetime, however interrupted.

It's not that she has all the time in the world, but there are some things that are more important.

"I love you so much," she whispers into the air, as she looks out the window, watches the errant wind gathering errant leaves, scraping them up into the sky. The sky is almost painfully blue today, like good things that—

" _can_ last," she says firmly, setting her shoulders.

 

Sehun is tucked into bed, hair still damp from his bath, breath slipping gently in and out of his lungs as his eyelashes flutter over his soft cheeks, fingers curled gently around her finger. Qiàn feels so fond, more than fond; her chest is so full of everything that can't even be bound by the little four letter word, love, that's supposed to be able to explain everything. It's not enough, words can't explain something like this, and words don't have to, as she leans down to press a warm kiss to his forehead.

"I love you," she whispers, smoothing his hair back from his forehead as his nose wriggles, just a little, her finger slipping from his fingers as he worms closer into the tangle of warm sheets and blanket. She sets the book on the table, the story he likes them to read together, the little prince and his hat that's really an elephant in a snake, the stars that ring like little bells.

 _I wish I could keep you safe forever,_ she thinks, but she will. She will.

The book is secure on the nightstand, the nightlight is on with it's warm golden glow, safe at the foot of the bed, the thin curtains drawn over the window that's open just a crack, the warm smell of a summer night drifting in on the gentle breeze like a kind of reverse nostalgia that hits Qiàn hard, all of a sudden, standing there in the doorway, looking at the things that slip out of her fingers, seconds becoming minutes becoming hours becoming days, chewing up the time she doesn't have left.

But Qiàn just smiles, the warm glow filling her chest as she lets the door swing silently shut, just a crack left open for the hall light to spill through in case of night time bathroom peregrinations.

 

There's a photograph on the wall, hanging above the sofa; it's the three of them in the park, a green profusion of foliage serving as a vibrant backdrop to their smiling faces, Sehun perched on Yifan's shoulders, Qiàn reaching up to hold Sehun's hand and keep him balances as they pose for the photograph.

It had been a random passerby, a young man out for a morning walk she had supposed, the memory is faint, swimming up suddenly like fragments from the bottom of the pool of memories stirred up by the photograph.

"We look so happy," a voice says softly, from somewhere behind her in the shadows, and Qiàn turns to glance absently over her shoulder as a warm arm reaches around to pull her gently to his side.

"Kris," she says, wrapping her fingers through his. "You're home late today." It's not an accusation, just a statement, as she rubs her thumbs over the backs of his hands, but she can feel by the tenseness in his muscles, almost quivering, that he's not happy, probably with himself.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "it's just—there are so many things—before—" His voice breaks, cutting off mid-sentence. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Qiàn says, pulling his arms around her in a hug, and even though he's hugging her, she knows it's really the other way around.

"Victoria," he breathes, his breath ruffling through her hair, and it sounds like a plea, but she doesn't have any answers.

"I love you," she says, because there's nothing else to say, no other solace, no promises she can make.

 _I will keep you safe,_ she thinks. _I promise._ Yifan's fingers, meshed with hers, are cold even though it's summer; she warms them with her hands.

 

She stands in the window, looking out at the street, the trees, the green leaves and sky and clouds and the things that shouldn't be so difficult to say goodbye to, not when the two people who hold her heart are somewhere in the house behind her; she can hear laughs and giggles and splashing from bathtime and Qiàn smiles, fondly, her hand resting on the glass.

The clouds are white and fluffy today, and normally she would play with Sehun, the both of them tracing shapes and calling out bunnies and giraffes and other things that they supply with their imaginations, but today Qiàn is looking for the sun instead, playing peek-a-boo with the clouds as it slips behind and hides from view.

 _There you are,_ she thinks, as a sliver of gold peeks from behind a cloud, the warm light bathing her face in the late afternoon glow.

It's warm, standing here; she takes a deep breath, letting the peace flow from the love fluttering in her chest all the way to the tips of her fingers.

"You'll be okay," she says quietly, before turning to hunt down her boys and wrap them up in towels and perhaps sneak in a few tickles. _I promise._

 

**Author's Note:**

> And this is the end! Thank you for indulging me, and I hope these three extra stories helped explain the context of [somewhere it hides a well](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5262395).


End file.
